


That's When He Says it's Over

by Leoblooms



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Faked Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leoblooms/pseuds/Leoblooms
Summary: December 9th 1980, regarded as the day the world went quiet for the death of John Lennon. Paul McCartney, just recently seen John in an attempt to make up is of course heartbroken and fallen into a pit of depression. However, when there’s a knock on his door at 3 AM just days after, his entire world will change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Mclennon Big Bang 2018 (I did not realize that we had to wait until June to post this year oops)

1976 

 

_“I missed you, Paul.”_

_“I missed you too, John, but you know this can’t happen.”_

_“It could.”_

_“No it can’t, and you know it.”_

_“We’ll leave, you and I.”_

_“John…”_

_“We could.”_

_“John, stop. This wasn’t what I meant by coming.”_

_“Then what did you mean?”_

_“…”_

_“Well?”_

_“I just wanted to see you.”_

\---  

1980 

 

A bang was all it took to bring the whole world to silence on December 9th in the year 1980 when John Lennon was shot dead. People instantly rushed to his New York home, grieving for the loss of such an icon that felt so close to the people. He was so vulnerable to the evils of injustice but didn’t fear it. That was his weakness and what killed him, he was too trusting in the world and his false immortality. People sobbed and mourned though they never truly knew John, they never knew him like one man had; that man was Paul McCartney.  

Paul was in his Scotland home when he had gotten the call early in the morning with the news of his friend’s death. At first, he couldn’t believe it, it had to be fake, or a dream. But it wasn’t, no matter how badly Paul wished it was, it just wasn’t. His body fell to a horrid numbness as the rug was pulled out from under him, leaving him on the floor. His best friend was gone, no taken from him, not even getting the privilege to go at his own time.  

He eventually told Linda and the kids, holding back any tears that tried to break through. Linda had just arrived home after dropping the lids off at school when she found her husband sitting on the couch, face empty. He probably didn’t even need to say so much, as his face made it clear that something devastating happened.  

He held himself together until he was finally alone and able to just let the painful sob wrack through him. His whole body quaked as he did his best to quiet his sobs from behind the door. A coppery taste assaulted his tongue and a reddish brown stained his teeth. The skin of his knuckle bloodied almost instantly as he bit down to keep himself from being heard, and just like that he was on his knees. His body crumbled like stale bread and he fell to the floor with a thud, doubling over with both arms wrapped around himself. Dark hair hung over Paul’s tightly shut eyes while more tears and other residues leaked from his face and expelled from his body. There was a knock at the door, then a voice, Linda’s voice. She sounded cautious and shaky as she spoke, stuttering over a word or two while trying to get her husband to respond.  

Paul said nothing and continued to cry. 

The man thought back to when he had just recently seen John, how they finally talked after so long, among other things. Trying so hard to stop his crying, Paul tried to not think about their last and final exchange and how there was still so much left. There was still so much that Paul never got to say to the man as they exchanged glances one more time on that faithful day in New York, but he could never get the chance to say them. 

Paul remained on the bathroom floor until Linda was no longer audibly asking for him. Dragging himself out, the man collapsed of mental and physical exhaustion, not even able to comprehend exactly where he fell.  

In the early hours of the morning, Paul found himself on his couch with a blanket draped over him.  

Then, for Paul life continued as it once did. It was such an odd feeling to see the sun rise and people going about their day even though one of the most crushing events of Paul’s life happened just yesterday. Paul was no stranger to tragedy as he, like others, have lost loved ones before, but that did not make it any less painful. There was still dread and there was still sorrow, but Paul knew that he couldn’t show it. He had to make like the rest of the world and continue moving through life.  

That day, Paul took their kids to school, feigning cheerfulness in front of them as he drove. The children appeared fairly unbothered which made Paul wonder if they even knew at all. But of course they did, even if him or Linda had not said anything, they must have heard it somewhere. It was unavoidable news, not even they could remain ignorant to it. 

\---  

“It’s a drag, isn’t it?” was all Paul had to say to the media on the loss of John Lennon, which of course didn’t fly with anyone. Paul kicked himself for every news coverage on his response, calling his statement insensitive and cold. Fans then followed the attack on his short statement, hopping on Paul anyway they could. 

“How could he say that?” 

“Doesn’t he care?” 

“He doesn’t give a shit!” 

They would say, flaring up about someone they never even met. That was what got Paul the most, John was his friend, not theirs.  

And what did they want from him? Well, Paul knew what they wanted. They wanted Paul to be breaking down and weeping where the cameras could capture it all for viewers. They wanted cute, pretty Paul heartbroken and hurt at the loss of the older man. They didn’t care how personal this all was so long as the media had something juicy to discuss on the next talk show or news report.  

It all disgusted Paul and he would never give them the satisfaction. His pride would never allow such a thing. 

The young man knew he would have to lay low for a couple days just to let it all blow over, the worst he could do was try to defend himself. No matter what it would turn to him to look like the bad guy. After all, he wasn’t the “favorite Beatle,” he wasn’t the politically educated, power to the people, do-no-wrong Lennon. All he was was silly love songs and catchy pop tunes McCartney. Paul winced at the sickening feeling sparking in his gut towards his lost friend. A strange stab of envy and annoyance towards John appeared but was quickly wiped away as Paul became self aware of himself. He would not allow himself to become bitter or hateful towards John, not after trying so hard to reconnect before his death. What he went through couldn’t be wasted, nor could he have his final memories be tainted by negativity.  

The light of the television bore through Paul’s drooping eyes, the darkness around him consuming his body. With a groan, the man grabbed the remote and shut the newest reporter talking about him off. Knees creaked as Paul pushed himself off of the couch to stand in the void of the night, the moon and stars being his only sources of illumination.  

Paul sighed and rubbed his temples, digging the tips of his fingers into the sides of his head. An arm snaked around his midsection, making him jump and turn. 

“Paul, are you alright?” Linda asked, furrowing her brow.  

Paul swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Yeah, Lin, don’t worry about me.” She clearly would not take that for an answer as she held him tighter with a firmer grasp. 

“Love, I’m not an idiot, I can tell when you’re upset, and you have every right to be.” 

“Linda, please.” 

“Talk to me, Paul, you can’t hide from me or this.” 

Paul shook his head. “Lin, stop, please.” 

“I’m your wife, we need to talk, not just ignore everything!” Linda held eye contact with her husband, seeming to stare right through him. Paul blinked rapidly, his breath hitching. He wanted to breakdown so desperately to her, bury his face in her neck and let everything he worked so hard to push away. Still, he didn’t, instead he tilted his head with a fake chuckle, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.  

“I’m sorry for not talking, love, but I…” his words fell away as he tried to find a way to finish his sentence, “I just need some time. Okay?” Linda pressed her lips together, finally breaking eye contact to glance at the wall behind Paul.  

“Fine, Paul  we’ll talk when you’re ready.” Paul’s fingers trailed down Linda’s face, urging their lips to meet for a quick peck. 

“Thank you, love.”  

Linda hummed. “I’m going to bed, come join me when you can.” Paul nodded and watched her slip away. 

\--- 

_Paul fidgeted in the back of the cab, as the driver mumbled swears and drove through the crowded streets of New York City. He became so enthralled and attentive to the dirt under his fingernails and the hangnail on his left index finger, that he almost forgot his nervousness. But when he directed his eyes to the outside of the window, he began to chew the hangnail as he contemplated just how to greet his old friend when he sees him._

_True, they were not as friendly with each other as they once were, ever since the band broke up there was nothing but sourness between the two. Though, that didn’t stop Paul’s need and want for the past, the way things used to be between him and John. He knew how stubborn John could be, willing cut his nose to spite his own face. But the young man knew that he couldn’t remain that way forever, they were best mates for years, after all. Paul bit into his hangnail again, wincing at the pinching feeling, then moved to bite at the nail of his index finger._

_He at  least  hoped so._

_The cab came to a halt in front of the tall apartment building. Paul swiftly exited with a quick word to the driver as he practically threw the money at him. The cool wind whistled past Paul’s ears, causing goosebumps to appear on the back of his neck. His feet now suddenly the weight of lead as he attempted to make his way to the entrance. There was no turning back now, though that did not stop him from at first considering it._

_The hallway seemed to go on for miles and miles, John’s door continuing to move forward. Paul scanned the hallway, searching for the correct door. At last he found it  and stood frozen in front of the shut door. Slowly and carefully, he raised his hand, a knock followed, and then an anxious silence._

\--- 

“Paul?” an exhausted voice murmured. 

“Yoko,” Paul stated then paused, “I just uh…” 

“Isn’t a bit late over there?”  

“Only a bit more than you,” Paul answered, holding back a yawn. It was three in the morning, but to Paul that meant nothing.  He twirled the chord between his fingers and breathed in. “I just, y’know, wanted to see how you were.” 

“How do you think I am?!” she snapped. Paul winced at the tone of voice even though he fully expected it. “I saw John die and nobody did a thing until it was too late! I’ve been hounded by reporters nonstop, so much so that I could barely leave my house. And now you call up in the middle of the night and ask me how I am like it’s a casual conversation.”  

“Sorry…I just didn’t know who else to call.” 

“Did your other former bandmates suddenly stop taking your calls?” 

“Yoko, please you know what I mean. You were close to him like I was, I need to talk to someone who got that.”  

Yoko snorted, “Yes, you were very close to him like me, perhaps even more.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul questioned, a suspicious feeling forming in his gut.  

“Nothing you don’t already know,” she replied, voice still laced with burning acid. Then, as if a new person took the phone, she sighed and her voice became less edged. “Sorry, John wouldn’t want this, he never wanted this.” 

“Yoko, what did you mean?” 

“Nothing, Paul, I need to go.” 

“Yoko-“  

The line went dead, leaving Paul to only have an empty receiver answer him. He gently placed the phone down, Yoko’s words still knocking around his head. He could feel his heartbeat quicken when he came to a certain conclusion, but he did not want to think of it. It was true that in the past, him and John were…”close” one would say to dance around the nasty details, and he didn’t doubt that John would confide in Yoko with it. John was never the type to keep things like that hidden, and the fact that he had been keeping it in since the sixties probably ate him alive. But it still worried and sickened Paul who had not even told Linda all this time. Now that Yoko knew, who knew what she would do with that information, whether accidental slippage or even blackmail, the possibilities sent shivers down Paul’s spine. 

“Fuck…fuck…” Paul whispered, trying to not wake Linda or the kids up. He began to chew and gnaw his thumbnail, adrenaline coursing through him at full speed. Je wanted to stand up from the couch, but his own body would not allow him to move from his spot, he was physically frozen as he thought more about it. If word got out he was fucked, he could lose everything; Linda, the kids, his career, all over. Paul’s breathing grew more shallow, heart now pounding out of his chest. 

Now he was on his feet, he couldn’t even remember forcing himself up. Nonetheless, Paul propelled himself towards the kitchen, his throat suddenly dry and desperate for water. Grabbing the closest glass, his other hand twisted to the faucet handle, and watched the water fill the quivering glass. As he stared down at the glass, his mind still raced with worrying thoughts. His grasp tightened and Paul was unable to raise the glass to his dried lips.  

Then came a crack and a pitched yelp as water and broken glass hit the floor. Teeth grit and grinded against each other and Paul’s bloodied hand was cradled close to his chest. Paul muttered a string of swears to himself, glancing around nervously until sure that no one was coming to check on him. Biting back another groan, Paul hurried to the bathroom to bandage his hand. He took large gulps of breath as he let his attention focus on the cool water run over his cuts.  

With his now covered hand, the young man made his way back to the glass and water and proceeded to clean up the mess. He mopped up the water, pushing the glass into a small pile in a corner. Yet again, Paul was left with the quiet and lonesomeness of his own mind with no distraction to save him. 

The world was freezing around him, just as it did when John was shot, then it moved again when a foreign sound invaded his thoughts.  

A knock at the door. 

The mop drooped to the floor with a bump, left over water residue seeping out. Paul’s eyes darted in the direction of the door, his blood turning frigid and his muscles paralyzed. He didn’t look away, convinced that he imagined the sound. 

The knock came again, this time more demanding. Paul took one step back, then three hesitant steps forward, then a few more, and before he knew it he was standing in front of the door.  

His uncovered hand lifted and took hold of the door knob, then he paused. Biting his lip, he found himself turning the knob and allowed himself to be exposed to what whatever was on the other side of the door.  

Paul squinted into the inky blackness of night and saw what stood in front of him. A mysterious person in a long, dark coat with a hat on his head and a scarf wrapped around his neck.  

“Can-can I help you?” Paul sputtered. The figure took a step forward, but Paul remained fixed in place. “Hello? Who are you?”  

“You don’t recognize an old friend, Macca?”  

Paul could recognize that voice and use of his nickname anywhere. An audible gasp filled Paul’s home, only to be shushed by the man who took a step into Paul’s home. The hat came off, revealing light, auburn locks and the face attached.  

“John…?” Paul whispered, finally finding his ability to speak.  

“Paulie?” John grinned, his arms outspread. “Surprised to see me or something?” 

Paul stumbled back from the other man, tripping over himself and falling backwards. He was sure his heart had stopped and he was going to die of pure shock. He would be found dead by Linda or one of the kids in the morning, lying in front of the open door with not another soul there.  

“You’re not real,” Paul whispered, crawling back. 

“That hurts, Macca,” John said, feigning a pained expression with a hand on his chest.  

At that point Paul was unable to hold still, his entire body convulsing and violently shaking as he looked up at John or whatever was taking the form of his friend. Was he high? No, he didn’t remember taking any drugs. Perhaps it was all a vivid dream but Paul couldn’t recall falling asleep.  

Then what the hell was it? 

“You-you’re dead.” 

“Back from the grave, love, even the great beyond got sick of me.” Paul saw John’s grin falter for a second before it solidified once more. Finally, John crouched to Paul’s level, causing the younger man to shift back uncomfortably. The older man brought an oddly gentle hand to Paul’s shoulder, holding him in place. Paul focused on John’s face, noting the longer hair and facial hair that grew from him. For some reason, studying everything that made John almost unrecognizable to an untrained eye calmed him down enough to listen. 

John brought a finger to his lips, glancing around, “I can explain, but not here.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Paul sputtered, feeling the blood drain from his face.  

“Everything, Paul, I want to explain everything,” John answered, squeezing Paul’s shoulder. “But I can’t here, not in a house with Linda and all.” Their eyes then met and that was when everything truly hit Paul. 

Paul had no idea how to respond. His best friend who he was told was shot dead just days ago was right in front of him saying he wants to explain everything. Where did John even want to go? Where could they even go? Paul was totally bewildered and lost in John’s words and his thoughts. Part of him wanted to still brush this all off as some sort of anxiety driven delusion or dream, but when he looked into John’s golden brown eyes that shined even in the darkness, the younger man knew that it was all real. He could feel it in his gut that it was. 

Paul wanted to say something, but his mouth was too dry to utter even a grunt. The man could only give a nod with his mouth slightly agape. John nodded back, patting his shoulder then pulling Paul up to his feet. Paul’s knees wobbled, for a moment he needed to balance on his friend which was the most surreal part of the night. Just touching John with his own finger tips and feeling the warmth from his body. 

Once he found his footing, Paul at last found the ability to speak again. 

“Where exactly do you want to explain?” he asked, voice hoarse and low. 

John’s grin grew into a toothy smile before he said, “How about I tell you over a quick drink?”  Paul actually agreed and led John to the kitchen, urging him to move as quietly as possible. 

Paul placed the two small glasses of scotch on the table earning a ‘thanks’ from John. The older man rocked the glass back and forth, watching the liquid move about and just meet the rim. Paul noticed how John shifted his eyes from the drink to the pile of broken glass that was never cleaned up, then to Paul’s bandaged hand.  

“Getting into a bit of trouble, are ye?”  

“You could say that, I called Yoko and it didn’t go so great.” 

“That explains it,” John said, looking back to his drink with a chuckle.  

“She sounded like she knew something…about us,” Paul admitted, not even touching his drink yet. He leaned in closer to John, emphasizing his last word. John just nodded and sipped his glass, he didn’t look fazed at all. Then again, if you were considered dead by the world, would you care what people know?  

“I didn’t come to talk about Yoko, Paul,” John said with his voice drained of humor.  

“Then start talking, John, you just show up after being pronounced dead and expect me to calmly have a drink with you,” Paul retorted.  

The older man shook his head, “I told you, not here.” 

“Then where?”  

Putting his drink down, John leaned in so close that Paul could feel his alcohol laced breath hitting his face.  

“I have a place I want you to come with me to, in Spain.”  

Paul’s eyes widened, “Spain?? You just want me to drop everything and go to Spain with you?” 

“You did that back when we went to Paris.” 

“We were in our twenties, John. I have a family, I can’t just leave for however long.” 

“One weekend, Paul that’s all I ask, Friday, Saturday and Sunday and that’s it.”  

Paul scoffed, “That’s it, great, John I’ll just go and leave a note on my pillow for Lin to find.” 

“I can’t believe the fight yer putting up. A friend comes back from the dead and asks you to go to Spain for all the answers, and you give him shit.” John waved his hand in the air with a small snarl.  

“Because it’s the middle of the night and you just showed up like it was nothing.” 

“Alright, Paul next time I’ll come at noon for bloody tea, but can you just listen to me,” John sighed. “I don’t wanna fight with you, Macca. I don’t wanna go through all this only to ruin everything we had more than I have already.”  

Paul bit his lip and wrapped his own arms around himself in a tight hold. His brow furrowed as he directed his eyes to the side, catching the pile of glass in his peripheral vision.   

“John, you had to know this was a far reach,” he started.  

“No, I didn’t,” John answered, cutting Paul off.  

“Okay fine, but you had to at least think this would happen. For Christ’s sake I told you that I can’t run off on some adventure.” John didn’t answer this time. “John, I’m sorry, I want to know what’s going on, but why do we need to go to Spain?” 

“Because I can’t tell you here, it’s safer for me to explain there.”  

Paul shook his head and sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you, Johnny. I’m sorry, I just don’t.” 

“What, do you need me to go get Linda so she can answer for you?” John questioned with a tone sharp enough to cut Paul. The younger man narrowed his eyes and sucked in a breath.  

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” he warned, expecting another smart remark. He was surprised to see that John had nothing more to say, only sharply exhaling from his nose. 

 His gut felt hollow as he practically looked through John’s disappointed eyes. He awkwardly cleared his throat and stood up from his chair.  

“I don’t understand what all this is or what you’ve done, but I’m going to clean up that glass and then I want you out.” Then the strangest thing happened; 

John nodded and said nothing. Paul didn’t know what to make of it, usually John would put up more of a fight, but it would seem that he was fresh out. Maybe John knew there was not much else to say to convince Paul, but that never stopped him before.  

A shiver creeped through Paul who tried to distract himself by grabbing the broom and dustpan and sweeping the glass. John remained quiet as he did so, it was like he was an actual ghost. Paul was actually sure that the second he turned back to John he would be gone, and none of the conversation actually took place. But he did turn around and saw John just as he was when Paul turned around. 

The older man gave a friendly, tight-lipped smile, raising his glass to Paul.  

"I'm sorry, Paulie, you're right I should've expected this," John admitted, gesturing for Paul to sit back down. "I'll tell you everything, just finish you're drink with me, yeah?" The younger man felt his heart swell affectionately as he watched the other man grow playful again. He sat back down and took a hold of his drink. 

"If you insist on twisting my arm," Paul joked, raising his glass. A clinking sound followed once the two hit their glasses together before downing them. The taste was slightly off to Paul, however, at least it was a bit weirder than when he drank it before. He inspected the droplets on the bottom, bringing the cup closer to his nose to smell. Was something wrong with it? 

"John, does your drink taste alright?" John hummed and Paul attempted to shrug it off. "Fine, we had our drink, so tell me what this is all about, John."  

Paul saw John open his mouth and move his lips, but the words falling out never made it to his ears. He was beginning to feel light-headed and unable to even focus on the older man. He waited for some form of panic to sweep through him, but his body was too sluggish to do so. His senses dulled and his vision began to blur, John was but a barely visible form. Calling for the other man, he was only able to push out his name once before his jaw went slack and he went unconscious.  

\--- 

_Paul could hear the door unlock on the other side, only to open to a semi-annoyed John Lennon. John leaned against the doorway, arms crossed with his fingers tapping against his arm. He pushed his rounded glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes._

_"Happy to see you too, babe," Paul said, hoping to break the ice, but John wasn't biting._

_"More like I'm happy to see you without yer lawyers," John said, looking down at his wrist watch. "A bit late, aren't you? Said you'd come at noon." It was about 2 o'clock when Paul finally arrived, mostly thanks to his nerves telling him this was a bad idea. Paul of course wouldn't say that._

_"Delays, traffic, the usual fun of coming over to the States." John hummed, turning around to walk inside. Paul took this as his formal invitation and followed his old friend inside the suite. He couldn't believe how incredibly white the place was; white walls, white rugs, white furniture, it was like a madhouse. How did Sean not color on every wall in the place, Paul wondered to himself._

_Paul walked past the piano and followed John to the living room where there sat a chair and long couch. John, being the man he was, took neither and instead sat cross-legged on the floor and leaned against the couch. Paul chose the chair diagonal from John and crossed his legs._

_"Afraid I'll pounce on ye, son?" John grinned._

_"Maybe," Paul joked back, "I hear you've been on some new diet so who knows what kind of energy you've got stored up."_

_John waved him off with a chortle that helped soothe Paul. "Nah, all of that energy goes right to watching Sean."_

_"I'll bet, kids are a handful."_

_"Yeah," John simply said, his perkiness gone as soon as it came. Paul uncrossed his legs, running his hands up and down his thighs._

_"Yoko here?"_

_"Why? Wanna tell her off or something?"_

_Paul shook his head, "Just asking, John."_

_"No, her and Sean are out for a few days, I'm here by meself." Paul ran his fingers through his dark hair, lightly rubbing at his scalp as he attempted to conjure up the next statement. Then John beat him to the next word._

_"So what are you doing here? Trying to get me in for a Beatles reunion or some shite?"_

_"No, John, Christ can't I come visit an old friend without some sort of motive?"_

_"You tell me, last I heard from you it was a lawsuit." The older man narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows. Paul couldn't tell if John was genuinely angry or if he was just trying to get a rise out of him._   

_"Well don't worry because I swear I come in peace," Paul said, holding his hands up in the air. "Do you wanna frisk me for lawyers?"_

_"You'd like that I'm sure."_

_Involuntarily or not, the two laughed at the same time, breaking the awkwardness once again._

_"Just don't tell Linda about it, I don't want a visit from her next for molesting her husband."_

_"My lips are sealed," Paul promised, making a zippering motion over his mouth.  It didn’t take long for the silence t o return and stay as such until John spoke up._

_“Christ I’m  gonna l lose me fucking mind at this rate.”  Then, John pushed himself off the floor and shuffled to a cabinet in the kitchen. Paul leaned back, trying to get a peek at what the man was doing, only to spot a small bag. John returned with the bag and rolling paper, waving them in front of the younger man._

_"No point in acting like we've got sticks up our arses, yeah?" Paul eagerly agreed, taking one of the papers for himself._

\--- 

When Paul awoke, he still could not make out his surroundings for a moment. The world spun and blurred around him while sounds and feeling returned to him all at once like a train hitting him head on. Blood pounded behind his eyes and between his ears as he came to. Hands felt around, expecting to feel the fabric of a chair or the shag of his rug, instead he felt hard, plastic handles. Was he on a plane? 

The short answer was yes, the long answer pertained as to why and how.  

"Morning, Macca." That gave him a bit of a hint. 

"John?" Paul groggily asked. "What the hell is going on?" 

"Paul, come on, did you really think I was going to give up like that? The fact of the matter was that I did fully expect you to say no, so I came prepared." Paul paused, recollecting the night prior. Then, like a bell went off in his head, his body straightened up and he caught on. 

"You drugged me??"  

"To be fair that was probably the lightest drug that's ever been inside you, love," John said casually.  

"You're mental, what am I going to do when Linda wakes up and wonders where I am?!" 

John shrugged, "Call and tell her you're visiting George for the weekend." 

Paul exhaled, shaking his head. "And you expect her to just believe it?" 

"I know you've never been the actor of the band, but just say you wanted to see him to talk about my death. Do you think she'll deny her grieving husband and press on?" Paul wanted to retort but had nothing. He actually found himself laughing in disbelief at how ridiculous this all was. 

"I can't believe this, I must be losing my fucking mind," he laughed. 

"Hey, you're the one talking to a "dead" man."  

Paul dropped back, relaxing in his chair. He peered outside only to see the clouds, then the younger man glanced around to the empty plane. 

"Alright, so clearly it's too late for me to escape, and you've gone as far as to get a private plane, what's this all about?" 

John shook his head, "Told you, Paulie, I'll explain everything when we get there." Paul pressed his lips together. 

"Spain?" he questioned to which John only gave a reaffirming, lop-sided smile.  

"Spain."


	2. Chapter 2

Paul listened to the ringing of the phone, waiting for the voice on the other line to come through. He glanced over at John, who sat  sprawled out over a plush chair. One leg is swung out over one of the arms, the other hanging off the edge while his head rests on the other arm. He lounged without a single care as Paul anxiously held the receiver close. 

“Hello?” the voice belonging to Linda spoke.  

“Lin?” 

“Paul? Where the hell are you?” her voice was swamped with grogginess, she must have just woken up.  

“I’m,” Paul paused, swallowing, “I’m with George, visiting for the weekend.”  

“You left overnight without telling me?” There was doubt in her voice, but it was much expected. Paul choked back a stutter, knowing that one little trip up would confirm her suspicions. 

“We were talking about John, y’know, and I don’t know I guess it was an impulse decision. I really needed to see him.” 

“I can see that.” 

“I’m sorry, love, but I swear it’s just for the weekend,” Paul explained, catching John making a face in the corner of his eye. Paul made a face back which earned him a throw pillow in his face. 

“I know everything’s been really hard for you since John, but I don’t like that you just left without saying anything. We still need to talk.” 

“I know, I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking.”  

Linda sighed, “Well, there’s no point in staying mad, what’s done is done. Have a nice time, but when you come back we need to speak about this.”  

“Of course, yeah,” Paul said with a nod and a sickness in his stomach. 

“And Paul?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I hope you can come back ready to let everything out.”  

Paul just nervously hummed in response. The two hung up after that with a quick ‘I love you,’ leaving Paul with John. He was still lounging ridiculously on the chair, his head dramatically thrown back like a Hollywood actress milking a role.  

Paul made his way over to the older man, tugging on his sleeve. 

“C’mon, you wanted me here now you got me,” Paul said, pulling him into an upright position. “Now start talking, what’s going on?” John stared at Paul, his mouth agape with a hand on his chest. 

“Fucking hell, Paulie so pushy,” John replied, feigning offense. Paul rolled his eyes with a slight snarl. John only answered to that by moving closer to the younger man. 

“And you’re not pushy at all,” said Paul, pushing John back.  

“Mm, I like to call it persuasive.” 

“Ah, yes I forgot your persuasion skills, smooth talk and roofies, my bad.” 

“No offense taken, love,” John said with a cackle. Paul threw another swear out and actually found himself sporting a lop-sided grin. The older man threw his leg off of the arm, letting both feet touch the floor. John balanced his elbows on his legs and kept his legs widely spread as he looked up at Paul.  

“Anyways, we just got here, enjoy yourself a little before we get into all the nasty details, yeah?” Paul immediately saw the game John was playing by holding back information, though he wasn’t sure if he was fully against playing along. After all, if John didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. So why try making it more painful for himself by arguing with the man? His best friend was back from the dead and he was in some luxurious suite in Spain, maybe he should try to enjoy it a little before going back to Linda.  

The thought of going back to his clearly angered wife brought a pang of disappointment he had not felt in so long, especially towards Linda. He loved her the moment they met, but something was beginning to feel off more so than usual. Being married felt more like an obligation than something he wanted, even though he deeply cared about her and their children. 

But Paul was not going to think about that, for now he was just going to spend time with John and get answers along the way.  

“Fine,” Paul agreed with a nod and reached out a hand to pull John to his feet. John took the offer and wrapped an arm around the other man’s shoulders.  

“Fab, now let’s get some fresh air.” Paul allowed John to tug him along and lead the way, only to stop at the door. Paul froze as brown eyes scanned him all over like a machine.  

“What?” Paul defensively asked. 

John just shook his head. “You can’t go out there dressed like that.” Paul pondered as to why, looking down at his plain, light shirt and jeans. 

“First of all, you need more fitting clothes than those rags,” John said, taking a bit of the fabric of Paul’s shirt between his thumb and finger. “Also, someone’s bound to recognize you.” Paul made a noise in agreement, easily seeing John’s point, at least the second more than the first.  

“What would you suggest then?”  

“I’ve got some clothes you can use, and you’ll need to disguise yerself a bit.” Paul laughed, instantly remembering back to when he attempted to visit John during the filming of  _How I Won the War,_ and how much he enjoyed being able to walk in public without a single fan bothering him. For once in what felt like forever, Paul’s business was his own. So the thought of getting that peace again while out in public made Paul much more eager to go with whatever John had in mind. So much so that he quickly followed John to his bedroom, not questioning him again. 

\--- 

Linda placed the phone down with a long sigh. She wanted to fall back asleep but her mind was too awake to even attempt it. Instead she chose to distract herself by making breakfast and coffee as she could already hear the kids stirring outside of her room.  

Should she call back? Should she actually speak to George? 

No, maybe it was for the best that Paul went. She hoped that if anyone could get Paul to let down his walls, George could. She worried that interference might tamper with whatever Paul was trying to accomplish. If she just let him be, perhaps he would come home truly ready to open up to her, to finally let himself go.  

She wanted to believe that, but truth be told Paul was not the emotional type. He would go to countless lengths to avoid negativity if possible, even if that meant hurting himself in the process. Linda knew this since they met, but never fought against it as hard as currently. It was different now, John was dead and Paul could not run from it. He needed to accept it and talk. 

But she had no idea when that would be. 

\--- 

 _Paul_ _inhaled_ _again, relishing the sudden relaxation and relief the surged through his body._ _He chuckled and smiled towards John who_ _still had yet to take a hit._  

 _“Good right?” John asked, finally bringing his joint to his lips. Paul_ _nodded, sinking into the_ _cushions._ _His mind became a bit clouded the more he relaxed, he almost forgot why he came in the first place. But something in Paul forced him to remember_ _and to begin actually talking to the other man. Paul coughed a bit and brought the joint from his mouth._  

 _“Johnny,” he said, noticing how John visibly cringed at the use of the nickname, “can we talk, please?”_  

 _“What’s there to talk about?”_  

 _“You know what,” Paul answered. “Everyone thinks we’re going at each other’s throats and all.”_  

 _“Aren’t we? You’re the one writing songs about me.”_  

 _“And you don’t. Don’t play stupid, John you’re so transparent,” Paul snarled._  

 _“Self defense, love,” John sneered. “You were the one that started this whole thing with your problem with_ _Yoko. Remember?”_ _Paul’s eyes shot up to connect with John’s, anger beginning to_ _burst into his blood and bringing it to a boil._  

 _“You think I don’t?_ _I know what I did, John, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want to grow from it.”_ _John shrugged, rolling the blunt between his fingers._ _Paul waited for a remark, but John clearly wanted to move on from the topic at hand, so Paul had no choice but to oblige._  

 _“Ok, we’ll wait,” Paul said._  

 _Silence fell upon_ _them as Paul searched for something new to talk about._  

 _“Yoko here?”_  

 _“You asked that already, son.”_  

 _“Did I?” The two shared_ _a long, barking laugh._  

 _“I told you it’s good,” John said as he took another hit, “Even for you.”_ _Paul nodded with another dry laugh. He wanted so bad to finally get everything out in the air, to finally put it all behind them and move on. Even John would not allow such a topic to arise, Paul saw it as his newest goal, and he would get it._ _The younger man wanted to immediately jump back on it_ _whether John liked it or not._  

 _But instead_ _he said:_  

 _“So how’s Sean?”_  

 _John shrugged, "He's fine, he asks about you sometimes." Paul gave a small laugh at that._  

 _"Does he now? I can't believe he knows who I am."_  

 _"Course he does, who the fuck doesn't know you?" The way he said it should have come off as mean-spirited, but his tone was surprisingly light. "Babies being born right now already know the name Paul McCartney."_  

 _"And they don't know John Lennon? Are you joking?" John shrugged, still grinning. "Don't play that, you're just as known as me." John leaned back and spread his arms, tossing his head back to expel a belly laugh._  

 _"Yes, maybe 'Beatle John,' but you know I've barely done shit since Sean."_  

 _"Well what's stopping you?" asked Paul. Do you need me to sue you again or something to spark that creativity?" John didn't laugh like Paul hoped, only waved a hand at him._  

 _"I don't want to get back into that shit, man," John said. "I stopped because I hated it not because I suddenly couldn't think of anything." Paul didn't fully believe him. The John he knew was never one to sit around, especially be content about it. He always he to do something or be somewhere, now the only place he was_ _was_ _his room. It wasn't right, at least not to Paul. He was sure John didn't want that life, or maybe not to the full extent that he expressed to him. As though he were perfectly happy never stepping outside again, let alone writing a song._  

\--- 

The warmth of the sun beamed down on Paul, making him feel like he could almost fall asleep standing, as the pair made their way through Barcelona. Every once in a while, something would catch Paul’s eye, but he would quickly look away out if a worry of drawing attention to himself. However, he had to give John credit that the disguise did keep him fairly unrecognizable. Clearly, the older man had some practice on himself before growing out his facial hair to help add on to whatever new identity he was trying to take on.  

His disguise consisted of dark glasses, a convincingly fake moustache and matted down hair that was slicked back. Paul again thought of his last time going incognito and wondered if John somehow read his mind while putting it together. Though it didn’t matter, the younger man was just enjoying the cool breeze and warm weather.  

As they walked, John would accidently bump into Paul’s side, each time causing a strange, internal reaction in Paul. It happened so often that Paul began to doubt it was accidental, but he actually didn’t protest. Instead, Paul bumped back only making John chortle as he pushed against Paul with a bit more force. Paul mirrored the action, receiving a punch to the arm.  

It actually felt like old times again. 

“So where are we going?” Paul inquired. 

“I dunno,” John admitted, “just walking.”  

“Really? Not a single clue?” 

“Nope,” John confirmed, “nothing. I don’t know the place  _that_ great yet.” For some reason Paul thought that was a lie, but allowed it to go without question. His eyes cautiously looked around at both the buildings and people, admiring the beauty in everything he saw. He actually felt a bit freed in the disguise again.  

John’s hand slapped onto his chest, stopping Paul from moving another step. Confused, the younger man questioned what was wrong. John only pointed ahead to a tiny restaurant. 

“Let’s get something, I’m starving,” said John, speeding along. Paul followed, hiding his amusement at John’s sudden excitement over food.  

The restaurant itself was simple but surprisingly beautiful and bright. A small place with a few tables carefully placed around the restaurant. Sunlight poured in through the open windows and left it completely full. 

Paul commented with obvious sarcasm that the place wasn’t that bad, which only got a scold from John.  

“Don’t be a fuckwit, I come here too much,” said John. 

“What happened to being too new here to know anything?” Paul lightly bit the tip of his tongue with a cheeky grin. 

“Shut up,” John replied, “I’ve been here at least once a day since I got here. If you think it looks nice, you have to try the food.” 

“I suppose I will.” The two took their seat at the closest table as a waiter brought two menus. Paul thumbed through the pages and decided on a coffee to start, only to be mimicked by John. The waiter nodded and walked off. 

"So how are Linda and the kids?" John asked with a tone of rare sincerity.  

"Good, obviously they're all quite upset by, uhm,  _recent events."_  

"What about you, Paulie? What have you been up to?" Was John seriously trying to create small talk between them as if this is just a casual meet-up and not some elaborate, secret vacation.  

"Well," Paul began, "I've been just, y'know, writing and all. I was planning to tour soon, but-" 

"Yeah my death and all, sorry to inconvenience you, man." Paul swore that in that moment, the sunlight that bathed them had diminished a little. 

"You know I didn't mean that." 

"Yeah," John said with a nod as the waiter returned with two cups of coffee. Paul graciously took the chance to distract from the awkwardness and brought the hot drink up to his lips. Recoiling at the temperature, Paul chose the mild discomfort over having to speak himself into more of a hole.  

A long sip of coffee followed.  

John, again, copied Paul's action with his own drink.  

The glasses clinked against the table, followed by the clearing of throats. 

"So, what else is there to do here?" Paul asked. "That is, if you're still not too new to know about a beach or something?" 

John chortled. "You know, there might just be one near here, as crazy as that sounds." 

"No," Paul drew out, shaking his head in false disbelief.  

"I know, wild, but I think there is a nice one just nearby." John answered, lifting his cup. "And I think that it is a fab one at that." 

"I'll have to take your word for it, Johnny." Paul went to lift his cup as well, but John's hand land over it, stopping the action midway. 

"Don't call me that out here," he whispered. 

Paul furrowed his brow. "What?" 

"I don’t go by John here. Name change, you know?" As he said that, Paul certainly noticed the sun fade behind scattered clouds rolling in. 

"You changed your name?" Paul, now seeing how stupid that question was, replied. John hummed in response. 

"I've got a whole new identity since I came here. Everything's new: name, birthday, everything." 

"How'd you get all that fake information?" Paul questioned in a low voice, glancing around for anyone that could possibly overhear. 

"I know some people, alright? It's called having money, Paul, I thought you would get that pretty quick." John said with snark. "Anyways, of course I needed new information. Don't you think it would look a little fucking odd if another Lennon showed up out of the blue after one fairly famous one was reported dead?"  

"I don't doubt that, but I'm just a bit surprised at all the effort you went through just for a trip to Spain." John expelled a laugh and dropped back in his chair. 

"Just a trip to Spain," John parroted, shaking his head.  

"Am I wrong?" Paul questioned with arched eyebrows.  

"More than you think," said John, reaching into his pocket and pulling out cash. 

"We haven't even ordered yet," Paul pointed out. 

"Let's get to that beach, yeah?" John asked, but Paul knew it was rhetorical. The younger man rose, following John out of the building. 

\--- 

 _"So you're just totally over songwriting?"_  

 _"What?"_  

 _"Just like that, tossing It out?"_  

 _"For now, I guess so," John curtly answered, snubbing out his joint. Paul copied the action with a sigh. "Look, just_ _'cause_ _you still love touring and writing doesn't mean I have to now. This isn’t The Beatles anymore and you don't have me and the rest of the band under_ _yer_ _thumb like then. We can make our own damn decisions."_  

 _"I'm not trying to decide for you," Paul calmly stated, "I just don't see how you can like this."_  

 _"Well you always were a bit dense on the subject of standing still_ _,” John remarked. Again, there was a lack of bite in the response, it was clearly a bit more playful than John would have liked to be outright about._  

 _“I suppose, but you were like that too last I remember.”_  

 _Another wave from John._  

 _“People change.” But did John change? Was he actually happy? Paul had no way of telling._  

 _This was one of the only times Paul could not read John and it scared him._  

 _“I guess so, but_ _such a large change?” Paul pushed, much to John’s visual annoyance._  

 _“Nothing’s impossible,_ _man.”_  

 _“But it’s not you! The John I knew would jump at every opportunity to_ _write a song_ _!”_  

 _“The John you knew doesn’t exist anymore,” John said sternly._  

 _“I don’t believe that, I know you, John.”_  

 _“Maybe you don’t know as much as you thought, mate,” John muttered._ _“We’re not in our twenties anymore, in case you forgot._ _I’m not going to throw away all I’ve got_ _‘cause_ _you show up_ _ready to write another I_ _Wanna_ _Hold Your_ _Fucking Hand.”_  

 _“I didn’t come here to make you into a Beatle again! I came to see you,” Paul_ _shouted back._  

 _John shrugged, folding in on himself. “Well, you saw me.” He_ _turned his head in the direction of the door. Paul’s exasperation increased at this, leading him to shoving himself_ _off_ _the floor._  

 _“Fine,” the younger man said stomping to the door. “If you want to be_ _alone in your ivory tower I won’t stop you!” The door slammed as Paul left, not even looking back, but hoping John was at least watching him go._  

\--- 

The sunlight was mostly blocked by light gray clouds rolling in, leaving many of the beach-goers to begin their trek off of the beach. However, the two men continued their stroll to the sand despite this.  

Paul grimaced as the hot sand seeped into his shoes, stinging and sticking to his feet. It came to a point where he actually called for John to wait as he yanked off one shoe to empty out any sand inside. He was able to shake it out to some success only to lose his balance, and almost falling into the sand. Catching himself, Paul yelped at the sudden submersion of his bare foot in the sand, much to John's entertainment.  

"You think that's funny, huh?" Paul scoffed, kicking some of the sand towards the older man. 

"Hey!" John shouted between laughs, "It's only funny when it's  _you_ , love." 

"Odd, because I think you've got that backwards." 

"Whatever, put yer damn shoe on and let's go before you become the sandman," John said with an eyeroll as he turned to continue leading the way. 

At one point, they paused again with John motioning to their shoes. He went to remove his and urged Paul to follow his lead once they were closer to the water. Paul hesitated, but he eventually gave in after making sure the sand was not nearly as dry as from before. He removed his footwear, surprised by how amazing the moistened sand felt, even if the texture was similar to mud. The feeling almost brought something innocent to his mind. The salty air of the ocean filled Paul and somehow left a taste of it on his tongue.   

“Are you coming in?” John called, somehow already knee deep in the ocean. Paul stood there for a minute, contemplating before ultimately shaking his head. 

“I’m still dressed,” he said bluntly.  

“So am I,” John retorted with an exaggerated sigh.  

“That’s  _your_ problem, dear.”  

“Come on, ye pansy, since when were you afraid of water?” John splashed the water around him, but not actually hitting Paul. It was then that Paul could feel the breeze pick up and the temperature drop. Noting the sky appeared darker to John, he was given nothing in response except a brush off.  

“Stop looking for an excuse,” said John. 

“I’m serious, it looks like it’s gonna rain,” Paul pointed out, a finger poking up at the sky.  

“So either way, you’ll be wet,” John said as if he were bestowing great knowledge. “What’s the fucking issue?” When Paul remained in his spot, John gave in with a groan, and emerged from the water.  

"Fine ye pussy we'll go-" John's sentence cut itself short with a high-pitched yelp from the older man as a clap of thunder sounded off. This was followed by not only Paul's snickers, but small droplets of rain dropping on them. Paul threw his arms over his head in a pintless attempt to shield himself. 

"See, what'd I tell you!" Paul said with a smirk. 

Shut up and start walking," John grumbled, trudging ahead. "We've got a long walk back." 

"We're just gonna go straight back?" Paul asked with a gasp, now hurrying beside his friend. "But we'd already be wet in the water!" 

"Shut up," John repeated, giving another small jump with another clap of thunder. 

\--- 

A large horse galloped through the open, green field with Linda riding on top of it, her mind swimming with the last conversation she had with Paul. She had hoped that a long ride would help ease herself and clear her mind, but in fact it just filled it more. Even as the wind coursed through her long, blonde hair, Linda still could not fully enjoy herself as usual, it was all too insane. 

 Pulling the reigns, Linda brought her horse to a stop before hopping off. Her hand pushed hair from her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead. With the decision that this was only making her thoughts worse, she lead the horse back to the stable, and left for the house. 

Inside, she spotted Stella sitting at the table, staring at a glass of water. Linda could quickly see the turmoil in her daughter’s head, and had a bit of an idea as  to what it related to. 

“Hey,” Linda said. Her daughter looked up with a half-smile. Linda took this as a safe sign to take a seat closer to her. “What’s wrong?” Stella’s eyes darted down as she shrugged.  

“Where’s Dad gone?” she asked, peering back at Linda.  

“He’s gone to spend a few days with Uncle George.” 

“Why didn’t we go?” 

“He…your dad went to talk about something very personal.” 

“Did he go to talk about what happened to Uncle John?” she questioned, her voice cracking at the mention of John. Linda nodded, her hand reaching across the table to her daughter’s.  

“Yes.” Linda could feel Stella’s hand tremble. 

“Mom?” Stella spoke up. Linda hummed, her thumb gently running along Stella’s knuckles. 

“Is Dad…is Dad coming back?” Linda resisted the urge to twitch at the ominous statement. Her tongue suddenly double its size and dry as ever, Linda brought herself to say something, anything that would make the conversation less uncomfortable. 

“Of course he’s coming back, Stella. Why would you think that?” 

Stella shrugged again. “Ever since what happened to Uncle John, Dad’s been distant.”  

“He’s just going through a hard time, this is how he handles things like this.” Granted, even Linda could see that that was a bullshit excuse, but what else was she supposed to say? There was absolutely nothing else to even pull out that would be comforting in that moment, especially when deep down the same thought consumed her as well.  

Bringing a hand to her daughter’s back, Linda rubbed gently along her spine 

 “Everything’s gonna be alright, don’t worry,” she assured just as much to herself as to her daughter. Though she did not appear fully convinced, Stella nodded, avoided pushing any more questions, and stood from the table. As she walked away, Linda began to silently repeat that new mantra in her head. 

Everything's gonna be alright. 

Everything's gonna be alright. 

Everything's gonna be alright. 

\--- 

A towel was tossed in Paul's face and quickly rubbed through his soaked hair. The younger man took a seat next to his friend on the plush couch and continued to thoroughly dry himself off. 

"Y'know I'd hate to say I told you so," Paul begain. 

"Then don't," John finished, throwing his towel aside, and slumping down with his feet resting on the small, round coffee table. 

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Paul chided as he neatly placed his towel down. "We could always go back once the rain's stopped. The beach isn't going anywhere." 

"You think I don't know that?" John snarled but instantly backed off. "Sorry, I just don't wanna waste any of the time you're here is all." 

Paul shrugged. "Well, I'm here ain't I? Maybe not under the best circumstances, but I'm here, so is just talking to me wasting this time?" John's eyes shot to his, mentally shoving Paul back. 

"No, never, Paul," John murmured before clearing his throat. "I just meant that I wanted you to actually have a good experience here and see why I chose this place." 

"Why would you need my approval, John? Clearly it's a bit too late unless you plan to create a whole new identity." John didn't respond that time and left a pregnant pause between the two.  

"That does remind me," Paul piped up and John hummed in response. "What is your new name or whatever? Y'know so I know what to call you outside of here." 

Another pause. 

"James," John said. Paul raised his eyebrows at the use of his own first name but felt a bit of flattery in it. John must have read his expression as offended because he quickly went to add that it was a last-minute decision. Paul didn't mind, though, he actually found himself grinning a little actually. 

"You really like those 'J' names, huh?" Paul laughed as John visibly relaxed again. 

"I've got to keep some part of myself, don't I? Not like you're using it." 

"I suppose," said Paul before adding, "James," at the end jokingly. John threw a playful insult towards Paul and turned to look out the window. Paul followed, noting that the rain was beginning to slow down. That was when John turned back to Paul with a question. 

"How about a bit of night swimming later, Paulie?"  

"Night swimming?" 

"Yeah, you know, swimming at night," John emphasized 'night' with a raised brow. 

"I know what it means, prick, I meant why?" 

"No one will be around," John answered. "It'll feel more...free." Paul hesitated for a second, being thrown off by the sudden tenderness in John's voice at the last word. He said 'free' in such a hopeful yet saddened way that Paul felt almost criminal to bring it into question anymore.  

So he didn't.  

"Alright, night swimming it is," Paul declared much to John's content. 

\--- 

 _As Paul stomped down the seemingly endless hallway in a huff,_ _a strong rush of anger made his heart pound out of his chest and his limbs shake. He almost tripped over his own foot he was so blinded by the influx of emotions he felt towards the other_ _man. What_ _was it about John that could get him like this at his age? The answer was simple, John knew how to push his buttons when he wanted to, and he knew the exact ones to really hit with Paul._  

 _Paul finally made his way to the elevator, pushing the button for the first floor. A sigh left his lips;_ _he really blew that. The ride down felt so incredibly slow, much slower than the_ _adrenaline-_ _fueled_ _ride up to John's floor. Now all excitement or anticipation that occupied Paul was replaced by disillusioned disappointment in the man he considered his closest friend._  

 _It was only when he stepped out of_ _the elevator that the blinding rage began to clear and allowed his mind to think rationally again. With a now cleared mind, Paul evaluated just how stupid that decision he just made was._ _Was he_ _really going to walk away after one little outburst? Was he_ _really giving up that quickly? Most_ _importantly, w_ _as_ _he really going to let John win that easily?!_  

 _The quickest answer was a no as Paul bolted back towards the elevator, almost pushing a person out of the way to make it through the closing doors._  

 _Then just_ _like that, he was back on John's floor, in front of his door, back where he started._ _With a knock, Paul awaited once more for an answer._  

 _And_ _there_ _John was, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed and a half-grin._  

 _"Took you long enough," he said._  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part! It turned out a slight bit shorter than expected but I'm glad to have gotten the story done in time!

_“Let’s try this again,” said Paul raising his hands midway in defeat._ _John crinkled his nose and sniffed, uncrossing his arms._

_“Fine, but no mentioning of Beatles or Yoko.”_

_“Alright, no Beatles or Yoko,” Paul agreed, crossing a finger over his chest._ _John stepped back inside, allowing Paul to pass through._

_Back to where he was, Paul fidgeted with his hands, suddenly unsure of where to put them._ _John didn’t seem to notice or care about his discomfort as he went to sit on the_ _floor after putting away the last bit of weed._

_“John, I do want to_ _talk about something, though.”_

_“Ye already about to break your promise?”_ _John’s voice was sharp and defensive._

_“No,_ _I swear it’s nothing about that.”_

_“Then what is it_ _?” John asked impatiently._

_“I just, I wanted to say,” Paul paused. “I’m sorry_ _about everything.” John perked up in confusion. “I’m sorry for_ _dr_ _iving everyone_ _apart.”_

_“It wasn’t just you, son,” John said, his voice softening._ _Paul on the other hand felt as though his voice were crumbling._ _Sweat formed in_ _Paul’s_ _palms and that was when he realized how tightly he was_ _clasping them together._

_“But I kept pushing and all I wanted was to keep us together, but I just fucked it up more._ _Then there’s this whole bullshit feud between us and-“_

_“I pushed too, Paul. And in case you don’t remember, I chose_ _to have a go at you too. It wasn’t just you.” John_ _pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose up, and_ _rested his elbows on his thighs. “Even though you were a bigger prick about the breakup than I was,” he added lightly._

_Paul snorted. “I won’t fight that this once.”_ _Exhaling, Paul felt_ _the_ _weight lifted from his_ _chest and_ _unfolded his hands to put them by his sides._ _John adjusted his glasses again and coughed._

_“Great now that that’s settled, how about something to eat?_ _”_

_“What have you got?”_

_“Nothing you’d like, too healthy,” John said dismissively._

_“Alright, I’ll bite,” Paul answered, sitting up, “what were you thinking then?”_

_“There’s a little place not too far from here.” It sounded great to Paul, the only issue being that if_ _anyone saw Lennon and McCartney in the same room again they would never get peace. Paul ran this by John who brushed it off with a simple answer: a disguise._

_“What about you?” Paul questioned._

_“I live here,” John bluntly answered, “_ _anyone that bothers me are only the bravest tourists.”_

_“So rarely.” John nodded,_ _getting up to grab Paul what he needed. In the time that John took to assemble something,_ _Paul’s mind raced with something else he wanted to discuss with John. He almost wanted to just get out with it when John came back, but was unsure about how wise that was_ _. Of course he wanted to apologize for everything, but there was something more important; their past relationship._

_Neither Paul nor John would ever reveal it_ _but they had their shares of moments together that went far beyond what close friends do._ _Most of them were drunken and drug-fueled bights filled with an animal-like_ _desperation on par with that of horny teenagers. Though this was the case for them, there still stood the point that they always went to each other. Even under a heavy influence,_ _neither would venture off to some random woman, it was always each other._

_That_ _frightened and worried Paul the farther apart they grew as friends._ _John knew too much about Paul_ _to drop him and pretend nothing happened, or even worse, to_ _use_ _it against him._ _Instantly, the memory of speaking to Yoko over the phone the other night struck him yet again, and that was the first time it hit him that John had the power to tell just about anyone about them._

_Paul was pulled out of his thoughts once John returned, waving around the_ _items he found._ _Paul thought to speak about what was_ _on his mind, his eyes_ _connecting with John that clearly gave away that he had something to say._

_John inquired to what Paul was thinking_ _, but no answer was given right away. Instead, Paul shook his head and assured John it was nothing._

\---

The warmth of the day was soon replaced by a dark coolness once the night set in. Even the sand, while normally blistering the soles of his feet, was actually comfortable and soothing against the bottom of his feet and between his toes. Paul breathed in the soothing smell of salt water, shutting his eyes for a moment to fully get a feel for the quiet beach. The waves rolled onto the land with light splashing sounds, which sounded as loud as crashing waves without the sound of other people or birds covering up the sound. Opening his eyelids, Paul continued to walk forward with John towards the seemingly black water, the only light being from that of the moonlight. 

Paul felt John tug harder on his arm, urging him into the water, which Paul allowed for the time. It was only until a wave came up to his knees that the man jumped back with a yelp.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Paul commented, backing up. 

“Yer such a baby, “ John cackled, trying to yank Paul back into the water. “Complaining about the heat then whining about the cold.” Paul planted his feet in the wet sand, keeping as still as a rock as John continued to pull Paul’s arm.

“Fucking stop, that water is freezing! I’m not going in!” Paul tried to look angry, but his façade was easily broken by the bits of laughter creeping through. 

“There’s just no winning with you is there.” John let Paul go and put his hands on his hips, head shaking. Paul crossed his arms and puffed his chest, his toes curling into the heavy, mushy sand. A smirk plastered itself on Paul’s face followed by the tip of a pink tongue poking through his lips. But just as soon as Paul did that, a sly grin was beginning to form on John’s lips that confused and worried the younger man.

“What are you thinking, mate?” 

“Oh, nothing,” John casually said with a shrug, only to lunge for Paul. Arms wrapped around Paul’s waist, eliciting a screech out of him as he was lifted into the air and thrown into the water.

A slash echoed across the empty beach and the chilled water shot through Paul’s senses like bullets. Salt water filled his mouth and nose, stinging and irritating his nostrils and throat. When his head pushed above the water, loud sputtering coughs were all he was able to create at first. It was only when he felt the familiar feeling of his friend’s arm around his shoulder was Paul able to speak again.

“You prick!” Again, Paul wanted to seem furious but somehow found a part of the situation humorous and could not stop another laugh from escaping. A splash of water followed as a response from Paul, only causing the younger man to repeat his previous insult. The waist deep water rippled around Paul, almost tickling his sides.

“Yer all wet, Paulie so I must be doing something right,” John said, throwing more water at Paul.

“Fuck off,” Paul said, splashing back. Another wave came along, larger than the one from before, and knocked Paul forward. He could feel John reach out and grab him before becoming fully submersed under the water again. 

Spitting out droplets of the salty water, Paul pushed himself out of John’s hold, and moved his way through the water towards the beach. 

“I’m done, that’s it,” Paul said, wading through the water much to John’s obvious dissatisfaction. John splashed his hand against the water in frustration. 

“Come on, man!” When Paul didn’t even turn to John, the older man made another splash as Paul returned to land. “Since when did you turn into a cat?” Paul turned, dropped to the sand, and shrugged. Was he angry with John? No. Waa he irritated and loved messing with him? Yes.

John clearly had more to say, but a wave silenced that and brought him under. Paul hid his snicker under his hand and awaited for the man to rise up. 

But he didn’t.

Scrambling to the water, Paul jumped in and began to search. He felt around for any sign of a person, but the water was too dark to see, and he could feel nothing. 

Paul finally resorted to calling John’s name to no avail, then going back to using his violently shaking hands.

With no such luck, the man brought his hands to his head, fingers tugging at his scalp as he turned to land with another wave following. 

That was when he saw a body washed up on the shore that could only belong to John’s. 

He hurried to John, almost tripping over himself. 

When he got to John’s body, Paul flipped John onto his back, and fell to his knees. Still quivering hands attached to John’s face, almost slapping him in hopes of waking him up. The other man appeared so limp and lifeless, but Paul prayed to every diety that he would just wake up.

This couldn’t be happening, Paul wouldn’t believe it. John had to wake up. 

Did Paul even know CPR? The short answer was no. 

“John!” Paul shrieked, not worried about who would hear him use John’s name, pumping John’s chest.

 The man made no movement. 

Another frustrated cry from Paul, now hovering just above John’s face. 

“Shit, John…” Paul murmured, his voice cracking. Despite internal protests, Paul looked to John’s face again, only to be met with something that made Paul almost leap into the air.

A pair of brown, playful eyes were opened and staring right at Paul. 

“Joh-“ Paul tried to say but was cut short by a squirt of salt water hitting his face from John. The younger man gagged and sat up, wiping his face. The cackling of the older man was like a knife cutting through Paul.

“Fucking hell, Paulie, should’ve seen yer face!” John said through his bouts of laughter. Paul’s jaw was slack, he had no idea how to respond, but the first thing to come about was only pure anger towards the laughing man.

“You stupid asshole!” Paul yelled, grasping John’s shoulders and pushing him into the sand. “I thought you were fucking dead!” The worst part was John was still laughing like a sick bastard, which only made Paul angrier.

“Paul, come on, I faked my death once, do ye really think I couldn’t do it again?” 

Paul paused, for a moment the same emotions he felt when he thought John had been shot returned. This sickening numbness and loss of connection to the world sinking into him like a disease. Paul felt as though he were about to cry, but swallowed it back in favor of a snarl. 

“Why’d you do it?” 

“I thought it would be funny to just play a trick on you is all, Macca.” The glossy-eyed man shook his head.

“I mean in New York. Why’d you fake the shooting? Why the name change? Why go through all of that?” When the older man pressed his lips together, Paul shook him and asked again with more of an edge in his voice. 

Blinded by rage and confusion, Paul didn’t even notice the hands moving up his sides, and pushing him over. The younger man hit the sand with John now the one on top, leaning over Paul’s face. Paul could smell John’s breath, stinking of liquor and sea water. 

Paul didn’t dare move or break eye contact, awaiting the answer he could see bouncing around behind John’s eyes. 

Lips grew closer to Paul’s, brushing against his own. 

Finally, a voice spoke.

“To be free,” was all John said before connecting their lips in a hungry kiss.

\---

Linda thought about calling Paul but refrained for at least a day and a half. While she wanted to check on him, there was a nagging voice claiming that she was trying to push him too much. But the questioning from Stella about her father, about whether or not he was even coming back created a pit in his stomach. It was ridiculous that she would even suspect Paul to go off the deep end and actually leave, but she supposed it was not improbable. 

She tried to shake the thought away, even just the contemplation of it frightened her in a way that was most unusual. Maybe it was due to the circumstances that suddenly such an action from Paul seemed plausible. Obviously, he was completely broken due to this, but would that take away his own common sense and conscience?

Though she felt a bit silly for doing so, she decided it would be best to at least call George to ask how Paul was. She could at least request he not tell Paul she called to check in.

The phone rang for quite a bit before George's familiar tone answered.

"George? It's Linda."

"Linda?" George replied. "Hey, why are you calling? Is everything alright?" 

"Yeah, everything's fine, I just wanted to call to see how Paul was." The line was so silent that Linda thought it might have gone dead until George spoke again.

"What are you talking about?"

"Paul?" Her voiced began to get an edge to it. "He...he told me he was with you to comfort each other over John." George must have easily sensed the growing anxiety in her voice because he did not wait to give her an answer.

"No, I haven't heard from Paul at all since John's death. I have no idea where he is, but he's certainly not here." Another pregnant pause that was only filled with Linda's ever-increasing breathing as panic rose. "Linda, hey, do you need me or Ringo to come there? Maybe there's just been some misunderstanding."

“No,” she quickly answered without even thinking. “I mean, no, I’m sorry I must have misheard him. I think he said he was with Mike actually,” she said, knowing fully that was a lie. 

“Linda,” George said sounding incredibly suspicious, “I can come. There if something’s wrong with Paul.”

“I appreciate it, but really nothing is wrong,” she snapped. She felt a pang of guilt as George searched for something to say. “Sorry, but really, I promise that I just forgot. Everything has been so crazy around here since John’s death.”

“It’s fine, but you know you and Paul can talk to us.”

“Alright, thanks.”

The line went dead, and Linda felt like she was ready to throw up.

\---

_“What’s the matter with you?” John asked as he entered the room, disguise in hand._ _Paul tried to convince John that it was absolutely nothing, but he knew that that was his first mistake; thinking John couldn’t read him._ _John placed the articles of clothing to the side, and went to kneel beside Paul._

_“Come on,_ _don’t play that shite,” John said, letting his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose without fixing them._

_“Really, Johnny, it’s nothing, I was just lost in thought.”_

_“Thinking about what?_ _”_

_Paul shrugged. “Nothing important.”_ _John_ _huffed, following with an_ _eyeroll_ _._ _Paul watched as his friend gave a shrug of his own, pushing_ _himself up_ _with a grunt._

_“Alright,” John said, going back to the_ _clothing._

_“Alright?” Paul arched a brow._

_“Alright,” John repeated. “You don’t_ _wanna_ _spit it out yet, fine, but_ _yer_ _not off the hook. You’ve_ _gotta_ _spill sometime since you seem to be so big on talking today._ _Got it?_ _” Paul knew it was true and he couldn’t keep if from John much longer.  Not even out of how much weight it put on Paul, but because they absolutely needed to talk about it. He was not exactly sure why the feeling was urgent enough that he had to be there on this very day in person, but something in the back of his head told him he had to. Begrudgingly, Paul agreed, feeling like arrows were being shot through his stomach._

\---

The kiss ended abruptly as Paul shoved the man away, leaving his face just a mere few inches from Paul’s. The two panted heavily, Paul feeling as though he were sitting in an oven as his face grew warm. Loose, wet hair hung from John’s scalp and dripped onto Paul’s face that was white with shock.

 At this point Paul became fully aware of every sensation he was physically experiencing including the rough sand beneath him, the coolness of the water on his skin, and the few strands of hair that also clinged to his forehead. John’s hand came up to push back the strands, murmuring something under his breath. 

“That got you quiet, didn’t it?” John smirk, but got nothing similar in return. Instead, Paul rolled out from underneath the older man, pushing him into the sand. His knees wobbled as he stood from his former position, and casted a glance down at John as a dirty hand wiped at his lips. 

“I,” Paul began, but stopped. A breeze that was once unnoticeable now completely obvious took over his attention while he stood there. John didn’t make a move, only sat there in the sand awaiting something to be said. Paul wiped at his lip again and allowed his hand to linger over his mouth, his mind now becoming focused on the heat of his breath hitting his hand. 

Why did John have to do that? Why now? Paul’s mind was swimming, it was as though he were about to repeat past mistakes all over again. Past mistakes and feelings he thought he could bury away after so many attempts. 

“I’m going back to your place,” Paul blurted out, still visibly in a paralyzed state. Turning on his heels, Paul anticipated a grab or at least a shout from John as he walked away.

He did not get either. 

With a turn, the younger man watched his friend faintly follow from behind, a distance growing between them.

\---

_The dinner was quiet, but not as uncomfortable as Paul expected. John, though clearly eager to hear what Paul truly wanted to speak about, still_ _talked and joked around. It_ _wasn’t like earlier where it was nothing but small talk, snarky comments, or long pauses. Instead, it was an average dinner with a friend._

_Despite that, Paul dread the conversation approaching that would either make or break whatever was left of their friendship. Even on the walk home as the sun began to set, Paul could find no comfort in the normally calming sight of the orange sky._

_It was in the elevator, with the two men standing so close to each other,_ _did a thick blanket of tension lay over them. John looked towards Paul, and Paul looked back_ _with a subconscious lip bite._

_“Nervous about something?” John asked._

_Paul swiftly shook his head. “_ _No… at least I don’t think I am.”_

_“You don’t know?”_

_“Can’t say I do,” Paul said, cursing to himself at the return to the long pauses._ _Paul could almost feel John’s breath on him,_ _a magnetic pull keeping him from yanking away. His hazel eyes looked through John’s dark brown eyes and saw_ _longing._ _It was hesitant and almost fearful, but longing no_ _netheless._

_Paul’s brain must have shut off because he actually brought a hand to the back of John’s neck, and pushed his lips into his for a quick peck. Pulling away_ _was the most painful part as he waited for a quip from John._ _But John only gave a lop-sided grin, licking his lips._

_“That what you wanted to tell_ _me? Cos if so, I can help you elaborate more when we get_ _to my floor.” The older man waggled his thick_ _eyebrows much to Paul’s relief._

_Right when Paul walked inside, he could feel John wrap his arms around his torso._ _His skin prickled_ _as thin lips brushed his neck._

_“Is this what you came to talk about,_ _Paulie_ _? Did you miss this?”_

_With a gasp, Paul felt his entire body tighten_ _when he felt the tip of John’s tongue poke at the back of his neck._

_Paul grasped John’s_ _arms._ _“Jo-John, wait, please,” he said in a hoarse whisper._

_“Paul,” said John,_ _placing a short kiss against Paul’s neck while his hands began to work the button of his jeans, “we can always talk later, right?”_

_“John.”_

_“Paul,” John repeated as he undid the man’s belt and fly._ _Paul felt another kiss, growing weaker with each moment._ _His body was spun around to face John,_ _their bodies pressed together. It was in that moment did Paul realize he was already half hard, as was John._ _John’s hands were still working Paul’s dick out of his pants with little to no_ _resistance, only the occasional grunt._ _Calloused, rough hands gripped Paul’s cock and gave a_ _tug._

_A whine_ _escaped Paul’s lips as John stopped with a tighter squeeze, leaning into his ear._

_“You_ _gonna_ _help me?” Another gasp and Paul was nodding, trying to_ _open John’s pants. One of John’s hands moved away to grasp Paul’s hand, stopping him._

_“What?”_

_“Not here,” John breathed_ _into the younger man’s ear, “bedroom.”_ _With that, he bit the shell of Paul’s_ _ear, causing him to completely lose himself. Without thinking, Paul allowed himself to be yanked into John’s bedroom, and thrown onto the king-sized bed. His body hit the soft sheets,_ _bouncing ever so slightly with his legs falling open._

_The opportunity was taken and Paul was suddenly shrouded by John’s body on top of his._ _Their lips passionately connected with John’s tongue forcing its way between Paul’s lips._ _Teeth lightly grazed the invading tongue, with his own_ _joining_ _the kiss, much to John’s obvious enjoyment. Before Paul could forget, he broke the kiss and began to undress the man hovering over him._ _He practically ripped his clothes off in a lust-filled frenzy and then allowed John to do the same._

\---

Back at the suite, Paul’s shaken body felt as though it would give out at any moment. What happened back there was something Paul felt in the back of his head would happen, as though it was inevitable. But that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen, he couldn’t go through that again. There he was though, in that position whether he wanted it or not. 

Shortly after, John entered the space, quietly shutting the door. Paul dropped onto a chair at John’s small, round dining room table, his hand on his forehead. His eyes were suddenly hyper-focused on the thin scratches on the table, so much so that he didn’t notice John sit near him. He flinched when John’s hand came closer to him, brushing his knee. 

“Paul,” John said, “I’m sorry I don’t know why I did that.” Paul shook his head and finally broke eye contact from the table. 

“Yeah you do.”

John leaned back, breathing out a weak, deflated laugh. “Okay, maybe I do, but I don’t know why I did it there. I just felt, I don’t know…urgency?” 

“Urgent about what?”

“You know, man, I had to do something before you leave, and it just seemed right. There in that moment, I had to do it.”

“You didn’t  _have_ to, you chose to,” Paul corrected. “And I don’t know why you did, what did you think would happen?”

“I don’t fucking know, Paul I just knew I had to do it. Yes, I  _had_ to, before you try to be a smart ass again.”

“Whatever, John, but again, what did you expect me to do? Shag you right on the beach?”

“Don’t be stupid,” John waved, “I’d at least expect us to find a shack or something.” 

Paul snorted. “You’re sick.”

“You love it,” John said, moving in closer with his eyes narrowing. A spark, almost like a static shock, shot through Paul and put his hairs on end. He wanted to look down but he didn’t, something about John being too strong and alluring. 

Then it happened again.

Paul’s lips were once again connected with John’s, forcing out a muffled gasp as John’s long facial hair scratched against Paul’s face. Though that time Paul didn’t yank away. That time, he let John’s hand move to the back of his head, fingers tangled in Paul’s dark hair as he was held in place. Paul let his eyes flutter shut and leaned more into the kiss, ignoring the screaming voice in his head telling him to stop.

The tips of John’s rough fingers dug into Paul’s scalp, twisting the dark locks and causing Paul to gasp. It was only when John pushed his tongue in his mouth did Paul’s mind oddly begin to wander from the current activities. He wasn’t thinking about John or his own pleasure, he started thinking about Linda and his kids. The fact that they were home waiting and wondering about him while he was out romping around and kissing his supposedly dead friend. The thought of his wife and their last interaction before he practically vanished made him pull away like he would from a hot stove. 

With a draw of breath, Paul swallowed hard and looked at his bewildered friend.

“This was a mistake.”

\---

_Naked, exposed skin slid against each other, both men held in a warm embrace._ _Upon feeling John’s teeth graze his neck, Paul turned his head for better access, his cheek resting against one of the pillows._ _John’s lips slowly descended down Paul’s body, stopping to plant kisses along his chest, ribcage, and navel until reaching his crotch._

_The next time Paul peered down, John’s lips were wrapped around his girth,_ _hollowing his cheeks._

_“John, fucking_ _christ_ _,” Paul moaned, fighting the need to thrust into John’s mouth._ _A wet tongue lapped at the underside of his cock only to draw up to the_ _sensitive tip. With a swipe across the slit, John_ _swallowed the bit of_ _precum_ _and gave Paul a few pumps._

_Paul’s lips curled_ _in irritation at the pause, but stopped himself from speaking when John got up to go to one of his dressers._ _Paul knew exactly what John was looking for._

_“Ah!” John exclaimed, presenting the_ _tube of lube he stashed away. “Haven’t gotten to_ _use this forever.”_

_Paul snorted. “What? Yoko won’t let you do it there?”_

_“_ _Shut up, I just never asked!” John called back,_ _climbing back into his straddling position._ _Pouring a generous amount onto his fingers, John allowed the liquid to drip onto_ _Paul’s cock. The coolness made Paul shiver and only heightened his_ _arousal. But_ _just when Paul thought he couldn’t get hornier, he watched as John_ _began to prepare himself._ _His glasses just about to fall off with his head lowered, with shallow breaths and pants filling the room. Paul_ _wanted nothing more than to fuck John’s brains out, a want he had not been able to get for so many years._

_Before Paul even knew it,_ _John was slowly lowering himself, pushing the hea_ _d in._ _With his head thrown back, Paul but_ _back a long moan, his teeth nearly biting through his lip as John_ _fully sheathed him._ _It wasn’t until John began_ _to grind his hips, pushing Paul as deep as he could go, that the younger man released a groan of pleasure._ _Toes curled into the sheets,_ _and Paul still fought_ _want to push his hips up so John_ _could become more adjusted._

_Paul popped open one of his shut eyes, peering up at the older man. He noted how John’s_ _ey_ _es were screwed shut in pleasure, his glasses_ _falling down the bridge of his_ _nose._ _Reaching up, Paul gently slid the round glasses off and placed them_ _on the nightstand. That was when Paul saw John’s dark eyes, confused at the action._

_“Don’t want me to see, Macca?”_

_“Just thought_ _I’d save you the trouble of having to find them when they fly off,” Paul said, poking his tongue out even though he new John couldn’t see the small action too well._

_“Dirty fuck,” John laughed, grinding his hips again, slightly lifting his hips then dropping himself._ _Paul yelped, shutting his eyes again._

_“_ _Chirst_ _,_ _John, I,_ _”_ _Paul gasped, his hands going to grab John’s hips._

_“Fucking love you,_ _Paulie_ _,_ _” John whined. “Love you so fucking much.” More gasps from the two men as John continued_ _to move._ _As he was caught in the moment, Paul_ _began to thrust into John, his movements synching with John’s._ _His hand gripped John’s dick, pumping_ _the hard length with each hard thrust._

_“I, I love you too, Johnny,” Paul murmured._ _He felt John pause for a second upon hearing what he said, only to begin bouncing on his cock once more._

_Another mutter of love from John who was practically begging Paul to repeat himself,_ _his hot breath hitting Paul’s face._

_Paul didn’t say anything else, only incoherent moans while giving a few last sporadic_ _thrusts as he_ _came_ _. John’s orgasm followed, shooting cum onto Paul’s_ _chest with a_ _loud cry._

_The man on top of Paul collapsed in exhaustion,_ _not bothering to roll off of him._ _Wind left Paul’s lungs upon getting crushed under the weight of his best friend’s body._ _As Paul laid there, John’s pants tickling his skin and_ _his sweat mixing with his own, Paul came back to his senses._

_He pushed_ _the warmth of his friend away, rolling him onto his back and unsticking their bodies. Propping himself on his elbows, Paul stared down at_ _John’s now open eyes stuck to the ceiling._

_John turned his head with his brow furrowed, “What’s wrong?”_

_Paul shook his head, “This was a mistake.”_

\---

Paul hurried past John to the phone, reaching out for it, only to be stopped. John’s hand gripped Paul’s arm, pulling him back.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Linda,” Paul quickly answered, yanking his arm back.

“Oh, so now yer gonna run home to yer fucking wife and leave me, is that it?”

“Am I not allowed to see how my wife is??”

“Right after snogging me? Yeah, seems a bit off, don’t it?” John snarled. 

“Christ, okay, John sorry I feel a bit guilty kissing my best friend while my wife is probably worried sick about me!” 

“We weren’t just friends before, remember?” John asked with widened eyes. “Long before Linda came into the picture.”

“Yoko too, in case you forgot, John, love,” Paul shot back with a deadly glare, the word love filled with toxins as it dripped from Paul’s lips. The younger man grabbed the receiver, holding it away from his ear. 

“We’re not talking about her!” John shouted, swiping for the telephone, only to miss when Paul yanked it away. “We’re talking about-“ another missed grab, “you fucking off and leaving me again!” Frustrated, John tackled Paul to the ground, causing the phone to bounce on the ground. With a grunt, Paul scuffled to push John off, kicking and hitting John’s body. 

“Get the fuck off, Lennon!” 

“What? I thought you preferred this position,” John cruelly laughed, reaching over Paul, but was cut short when Paul gave a hard shove. John was thrown off Paul, crying out in pain as he banged into the coffee table. Rolling onto his stomach, Paul took the phone, and jumped to his feet. With a swift turn of his head, he snapped to John on the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Guilt panged in Paul’s stomach as his friend looked at him with a look of betrayal and hurt. Paul watched as John didn’t move to get up or lunge for Paul or anything, he just sat on the ground. It was too easy, Paul decided, he gave up too easy there must be something. So, Paul took a careful half-step back, eyeing the man on the floor. 

John laughed, but it was without a long-lasting smile, and instead with a bitter frown. 

“Go ahead,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You heard me,” John said a bit louder, “call yer fucking wife.”

“John,” Paul said, still clutching the receiver, “I’m sorry.” 

John shook his head, brought his knees to his chest, and looked to the side. 

“You haven’t changed at all,” muttered John, rising up, and shuffling away. The older man made his way to a closed door, which Paul assumed it to be his bedroom, and shut himself away. Paul almost jumped to go after John, but was shot with the grim reminder of his wife at home. Swallowing hard, Paul dialed the number and waited.

\---

Linda thought she’d go to sleep early that night with the assurance to her children that everything was still fine with her. She never said a word about her conversation with George, not to her children or anyone. Why would she? What would anyone be able to do for her at that very moment. For all she knew, Paul was off in some distant place she had no idea about, or even dead. The latter thought made her stomach shrivel and her breathing quicken. 

Lying in bed, she tossed and turned, not once being able to close her eyes. She hugged a pillow tightly to her chest, with her teeth biting into her bottom lip. It was all too overwhelming, she was beginning to feel her heart pounding rapidly and her body quake. Linda thought she would burst into sobs at any moment but tears never came, only a burning sensation in her face. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, and just as she did, the phone rang. As if it were a telepathic message, Linda hurried to answer. Her legs were like jello as she threw them over the side of the bed, and let them just barely touch the floor. She shakily held the receiver in her ear, waiting for a voice.

“Lin?” came Paul’s voice. At first she felt a wave of relief, but it was soon replaced by blinding rage at the sound of Paul’s voice.

“Where the hell are you?” she asked without a ‘hello’ back. Paul paused on the other line.

“With Geo-“

“Before you lie to me again,” she said through grinded teeth, “I called George and he had no idea you were supposed to even be with him. So I’ll ask again,  _where are you_?”

Paul sighed. “Fine, I’m not with George. I’m sorry I lied, Linda, it’s just-“

“Where are you?” 

“Spain.” Linda widened her eyes at the phone. 

“What are you doing there?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“I’m,” Paul started, “I’m with John.” Her husband had truly gone off the deep end, she decided. That wasn’t possible, they all saw, John was dead.

 Wasn’t he?

“This isn’t funny, Paul.”

“I’m serious! I don’t know how but he’s alive and I’m with him. I can get him!”

“No, Paul, I don’t want you to get him or whatever. I want you home by tomorrow, this has gone on enough.”

“You don’t believe me,” Paul mumbled on the other end. For some reason the tone in his voice made her blood boil like hot water in a kettle.

“This isn’t about that, it’s about you being a husband and father. I don’t care who you’re with, you just  _left_ like it was nothing. How could you do that??”

“I can explain, Lin,” said Paul. “See, John was at our home the night I left, and he slipped me something and when I woke up I was on my way to Spain.”

“You could have come home, you didn’t have to stay and lie to me. I’ve been worried as hell thinking you were never coming home, and now I’m the bad guy here?” The receiver shook in Linda’s tight fist as she tried to keep her voice down. “I can’t be left out in the dark while you go through all of this, Paul. I want you home and I want to talk. I don’t want to ignore this, I’m sick of standing aside while you’re in pain.”

“Linda…”

“I want my husband back,” she murmured. “I want him back so I can help, but I can’t if he just shuts me out.” Both were then silent, and Linda bit into her knuckle to stifle a whimper. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” Paul said, “I’ll tell you everything.” 

Linda took a deep breath, managing an, “Okay,” before the two hung up.

\---

“John…?” Paul said in a faint whisper, squinting through the darkness of the bedroom. There, he saw a figure curled up on the bed, too big for just one, with his back to Paul. There was no obvious movement and Paul genuinely thought for a moment as he approached the other man that he had fallen asleep. This was quickly disproven when the older man snapped his head to Paul, who was nearly prepared to see it fully turn 180 degrees. 

“Don’t bother explaining, I know you’re commander just ordered you back tomorrow,” he muttered. Paul bit his tongue and sat on the bed, his hands resting on his lap. 

“I have to go, John,” Paul said. “You knew I’d have to leave eventually, right?” Did he though? Paul thought about it a moment and it was then that he remembered something, something that happened the last time he visited. It was such a clear memory that he couldn’t believe he didn’t think back to it sooner. 

“John? You did know, but you didn’t want me to, did you?” With that, John pushed himself up and sat on the other side of the bed, once again turned away. Paul went to move to that side but was stopped by John’s voice.

“I’ll tell you everything, Paulie, just stay there, please.” 

So Paul did. 

\---

_Paul was a nervous wreck as he_ _threw o_ _n his stray clothes in a wild haze. He could hear John try to talk to him, but was thoroughly ignored._ _With a stumble, he pushed his way out of the bedroom, into the living room, only to be followed by a still nude John_ _with only his glasses on_ _._

_“I need to leave, I have to go,” Paul muttered, forcing his shoes on._

_“Fucking hell, Paul, take a damn breath!” John called, grabbing Paul’s arm, only for it to be yanked away._

_“No, John, I need to leave, I’ve made a mistake.”_

_“This wasn’t a mistake,_ _Paulie_ _,” John whispered, trying to calm the other man. “This was where it was always meant to lead, you know that.” Paul felt the tips of John’s fingers_ _press into his cheek, urging his lips towards John’s. With resistance, Paul refused the kiss and turned his head._

_“Let me go! This wasn’t meant to be anything, you sound delusional!”_

_“What’s delusional about this?!” John_ _combatted, releasing Paul. “It’s love!”_

_“We’re_ _married! I have children, you have a son, we can’t do this!”_ _John went quiet, his thin arms_ _wrapping around himself in a tight hug. Paul could see the walls in John’s mind crumble along with the rest of the man before him._

_“I missed you, Paul_ _,” he said in a cracking voice._

_“I missed you too, John,_ _” Paul said, lowering his voice, “_ _but you know this can’t happen.”_

_“It could.”_

_“No it can’t, and you know it,” Paul asserted, trying not to become too forceful in his tone again. It was obvious John was close to giving up, but_ _it was his stubborn nature to just not._

_“We’ll leave, you and I.”_

_“John…”_

_“We could.”_ _John reached around Paul, trying to pull him in for a kiss. The younger man wriggled out of his hold, pushing his hair back._

_“John, stop. This wasn’t what I meant by coming.”_ _John narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. Paul could see nothing but pure contempt replacing the tender hurt of betrayal._

_“Then what did you mean?”_ _John asked with disdain._

_“…”_

_“Well?”_

_“I just wanted to see you.”_ _John wasn’t hearing it at that point and stopped responding. It was his way of saying that Paul had overstayed his welcome._

_With that Paul left, not to return to see John in person again. He thought to go back, to try speaking with John again, but it was too painful. He could barely think of the man without this pit of emptiness and regret towards what could have been. And as he rode in the cab from the home of his best friend, a part of him wished that he had stayed with John._

\---

“It was all staged,” said John. Paul swallowed hard, urging him to continue. “It was all an act, everything.”

“The autopsy? The doctors?”

“Paid off to go along,” John answered.

“Did Yoko know?”

John gave a breathy, sad laugh. “Couldn’t tell her, how could I? It was easier to let her believe I died than abandon her like I did with Cyn.” Disgust flowed through Paul, he wanted to say something but he didn’t. He and Yoko never got along, but she didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserved to be traumatized like that. 

“Why’d you come here?” 

“It was one of the places I felt the most happy, I suppose.” Paul remembered how John was there before, except he was with Brian. He never was told the full story about that, but he supposed Spain was linked fully to a simpler time when Brian was alive and they were together. 

“When you brought me here,” started Paul, “did you expect me to stay?”

John laughed again. “Yeah, I don’t know why I thought that. I guess I just hoped you would and we could…start over. Like in the sixties again.” Paul swallowed again, choking up at the memories they shared in the days of the Beatles and even beforehand. 

“Y’know, John, part of me wants that too. Part of me wants to take it all back and really make what we had work.”

“We really were a good couple,” John said, “At least, when we were in private.” 

Paul laughed. “Yeah…but I know I can’t now.”

“Too little too late, eh?”

“Afraid so,” Paul sighed. 

“I know, you must think I don’t, but I do. I know you love Linda and yer kids, I don’t want that tough choice for you. I suppose I just hoped for a time you wouldn’t see it as a problem.” Paul nodded, biting his lip. 

“You think it could have been different?” John asked. “I mean, if we just tried something to make it work?”

“Dunno, Johnny, maybe, maybe not. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.” John gave a hum, slightly bouncing on the bed. 

“So you’ll be gone tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah. What are you gonna do?” Paul turned this time to the man just in time to see the move also done by John

“I don’t know, just stay here, I guess.”

“Won’t you be alone?”

“I’d rather be here alone than back there living a lie, Macca. I’ve been alone before, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Besides, I don’t wanna talk about that, right now I just wanna be with you, Paulie.” Shifting his weight, John went to lie on his side with his cheek resting in his hand. A burst of affection surged in Paul’s rapidly beating heart, and he decided it was best to copy him. 

Paul watched John’s brown eyes through the darkness. His glasses were off which Paul knew that meant John was practically blind, but somehow he could tell John was looking through him just as he always would. These were the moments Paul had, and always would miss. When the world was silent, there were no fights, and it was just the two of them. He felt like he would burst into sobs at any moment, but held back. He didn’t want that time to be sad, he just wanted to enjoy it. 

A hand caressing Paul’s face pushed his thoughts away, making him gasp. 

“Not gonna try anything, don’t worry,” John assured. “I just wanna feel you, is that alright?”

“Y-yeah, yeah that’s alright,” Paul said, closing his eyes. “John?”

“What?”

“Did you ever tell Yoko about us?” 

“Yeah, a few days before I left. I dunno why, I just felt like I had to,” John confessed. “Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad, well I was at first, but now I don’t care. I don’t get why, but it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Have you told Linda?” 

Paul shook his head. “Though, I probably will have to tell her now, it’s only fair she knows.” Paul felt as though he were talking out loud to himself at that point as he rambled on about it. 

“Paul?” John spoke up before Paul could continue on the subject.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember back in ’63 when we started getting serious?” John asked, relieving Paul of the ever- rowing discomfort of thinking about coming out to his wife about them.

“How could I forget?” Paul chuckled, welcoming the question. “I practically ignored you for a week before that ‘cause I was so scared.” 

“I remember. I especially remember the time George asked what was wrong once over breakfast and you told him to fuck off and eat his pancakes.”

“Eggs, I said eggs,” Paul pointed out.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to mess up such a crucial line.” 

“I’ll forgive you for now, but don’t push it.” Hearty laughs echoed as the continued to reminisce on their past. Each memory with another hilarious moment that they would recollect on. 

“You remember the time you almost got us caught shagging in a broom closet?” Paul questioned. John widened his eyes with his jaw dropped open.

“Excuse me? Last I checked it was your fault!”

“You’re joking!”

“You were the one who was too fucking loud, ye tit,” John said with a cheeky grin. Paul pushed John’s shoulder. 

“ _Because,_ ” he said, drawing out the word, “you were going too fucking hard! Thought I was gonna tear!” 

“Poor Brian could hear us, I know it,” John cackled and swiped away a tear. “I can still hear him knocking on the door asking if anyone was in there, and you kept gesturing to me as if that did any good.”

“It could have if you’re damn glasses didn’t fall off in the middle of it!”

“You’ve got a point, love, fair.” Another laugh, another memory, another hour passed. They had not even realized they were talking all night. John’s hand stayed on Paul’s face the entire time. Not to pull him in for a kiss, but just to have that contact with the younger man. Paul allowed it, eventually gaining the courage to wriggle on the bed to be closer to John until their bodies touched. Arms moved to wrap around each other, and as they held each other close, the sun began to rise.

Paul and John said their goodbyes later that day with John offering to cover Paul’s flight. The man graciously took the offer with another tight hug and a couple tears escaping his eyes. 

“I won’t out you on this to the media or anything, John,” said Paul, still in the embrace, “but I don’t want you to be alone.”

“How do you expect to fix that?”

“I wanna visit you, or at least call you. I can’t promise much, but I can still offer some connection,” Paul said with a hopeful grin. John smiled back, his eyes as bright as a star. 

“I’d really like that, Paulie.” 

“Of course, you know I have to tell Linda, right?” Paul raised his eyebrows and slouched forward. “She won’t tell, you know that.”

“It’s fine, Paul, I get it. I trust you, love.” John rubbed the back of Paul’s neck then gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “I hope we can still make some new memories together.” 

Paul lightly touched his own cheek where he could still feel John’s lips. Despite being much older, the man in front of him appeared as young as he was in the sixties again. There was almost a spark of hope restored in him, and Paul saw no reason to snuff it out.

“I know we can,” he said with a final kiss on John’s lips. When Paul said his final farewell before leaving the suite for who knew how long, he had the feeling it would not be the last. A new chapter of his own life was beginning, and he had no idea where it was going. All Paul knew was that he was going to go with it the best he could, and that meant no longer pushing everyone away. No, it was going to be different, Paul just knew it.

The End


End file.
